I would like to thank my beta "Pointless Nostalgic" for the patience and all the work she put in making my writing better. Thank you :) .

1.

Something woke me up rather harshly, my heartbeat ringing in my head, deafening all other sounds. God, my brain was going to explode any minute now. I could see the lonely candle only as a blurred shape, the headache skewing my vision. There was tossing and whirling beside me, bringing weird images of a dieing fish to the front. I didn't have to look to know what had happen. Again.

A deep sigh escaped my lungs when I lay back down in the bed. There was a source of new pain to the right, and I felt its dulled presence with every breath coming in. I had to wake her up now, but it had proven useless over time. I let another sigh out as my body began to slacken off. Sometimes she would sleep restlessly, hitting me and kicking me like tonight. Other nights she would suddenly cry out his name, startling both of us, without ever remembering what she had dreamt of. She kept crying in her sleep every other night, leaving me speechless and motionless, unable to calm myself to slumber. During those first nights I tried to hold her, to sing to her, and whenever she was awake she would accept it and relax a bit. The moment she would fall a sleep, she would try to get away from me. I knew what it meant but didn't allow myself to see it. Joy, blind, flawless joy ruled my mind then, making me believe it would all come to pass.

Night after night nothing changed, and as she grew even more restless, I decided to leave the damned bed entirely to her. I tried to sleep in the main room pretending I was working on something new. My eyes were itching, staring at the empty sheet until they began to close by themselves. One endless week had passed and I didn't have a will to play at all - I only wanted to sleep. There was silence as I crawled behind the instrument and drifted away. Too soon I was brought back by her voice, calling for her angel. She sounded distant and terrified and I simply couldn't leave her in such a state.

When I found her, she was wandering away from the cave, searching for me with a single unlit candle in her hand. Christine was bare-footed and too lightly clothed for the underground cold. I made the observations dryly, my mind in stupor .

"Christine..."

No other words came to me when I realized how tired and unhappy she looked. Christine turned to my voice and her face lit up for a second. My girl. She was searching for my eyes in vain, for the darkness was way too thick for her to see. A blinded child of light. Her pale skin was somewhat glowing to my sight. I took her hand and pulled her back towards my home.

"I thought you left me."

Stupid girl.

"That is very unlikely to happen, Christine. A bad dream again?"

"Aham."

She was shivering and I put my coat on her back. I had to try again.

"What was it about?"

"Nothing really, I just woke up so scared. I couldn't find you..."

"And you don't remember what frightened you?"

We were walking side by side and I saw her shake her head. Her gesture revealed such a desperation that my dulled heart sank. I couldn't suppress a sigh and she looked at me. Her eyes were feverish, no light in them. I was killing the poor girl.

When we got to my bedroom it was four o'clock in the morning already.

Around six Christine kicked me out of bed and I went to my business, leaving her down alone for a couple of hours. In that little time away from her, I needed to assure myself I was still in control of the situation. To remind myself why I was doing this, that I had the right to do it. I had won. Christine was mine and I was responsible to find a way out of this endless nightmare.

I tried everything I could imagine. I've been in a dead sleep after great amounts of wine several times, so I gave it a try. Drinking spirits didn't help at all, but made her sick. I read to her before sleep, I gave her warm soup, I sang to her, of course, I played. All was useless. She would easy for an hour or two, and then it would start anew. I even tried to keep her awake, to exhaust her completely, but with no luck. Dark circles were getting darker and she became distracted, her soul weak.

Every night I began outside the bedroom, we ended searching for each other in the dark around my home. Every time Christine would calm at my presence only to start fighting me again in her sleep. We quit most of our daytime activities, for she had no strength to sing and I had no desire to play. She looked drained of life during days, but the force she would often apply on me at night made a contradiction I was unable to comprehend. I was paying little to no attention to goings on at the opera. If it was not for the food, I would prefer to never venture outside again. We ate and talk mindlessly, sitting away from each other. Even in my state of absolute indifference, I discovered peace while sitting in her presence. At first it pained me a lot to see her keeping to the other side of the room. Time and insomnia dulled all feelings but grave desperation.

Although she slept more, I saw her became indifferent like me and found I didn't have to insist on anything anymore. Christine was quiet and obedient, sometimes reading my mind before I gathered myself to speak. This was supposed to make me happy, that she knew me so well, but somehow my heart failed to recognize it as happiness. She never protested or disagreed with me. Her rare smile was overfilled with sadness, I couldn't stand the sight of it. In such a mournful state she was, I didn't dare speak of love, not once. Slowly we were turning to a pair of sleepwalkers, in a slow, mirthless, never ending dream.

It had been over a month now, and we were sitting for dinner, silently eating the cold food from yesterday. The meal came tasteless to my mouth so I proposed to have some wine, and brought glasses to the table. One or two cups would do her no harm. Christine took hers and gazed at me waiting for something. I was about to sip from mine when her eyes widen and stopped me. I looked at the glass in my hand and put a tremendous effort to focus my thoughts. Nothing, and she was still staring at me. I touched my face lightly to feel my mask and finally gave up.

"There is something you want to say."

"You should make a toast, I mean, before we start with the wine."

That was the third time we dined with wine. Why now? Whatever.

"A toast."

"Yes, like a wish for happiness or a blessing."

Poor child, she was craving for some happiness even an illusionary one. My throat closed when I tried to speak the words. How am I to bless our misery? My body was rebelling against me and my stubbornness.

"You say it, Christine."

She looked at me confused and I saw something in her eyes when she spoke.

"I can't, the head of the family should do that."

So it is a man responsibility to bless his home and his beloved one. As it is his duty to provide for her and make her happy. I observed her face for a long moment before I finally made up my mind. I raised my glass and she mirrored my gesture.

"To your health and happiness, my dear."

"To our happiness."

I accepted the correction, for in truth, it was the same. She drank her glass empty to honor the toast and I went to fill it again, this time adding a tasteless powder to the spirit.

In five minutes, Christine was sound asleep on the table. The sedative was strong and dangerous for an everyday use, but it was a necessity at the moment. I carried her to the bed and lay myself beside her. A two hour sleep had to clear my mind enough, so I set my watch to wake me up and hugged my love. My face bare, I reached for her neck, allowing myself a single goodbye kiss.

I closed my eyes and in a second I had to open them again to the sound of the alarm. Christine was sleeping in my arms and for a moment I considered forgetting the plan and going back to sleep. The sense of her thin, bony hands seeking warmth in mine strengthened my will. I would not prolong her agony a minute more.

I dressed myself comfortably, then made for Christine's dresser. There was no black dress there, but I knew of a certain thick, dark blue one which would do. I gathered her things in a bag and tucked a knife in my waistband. It was my favourite one, made specifically for delivering a quick and silent death. After one final look to my home, I picked Christine up and left for the surface.

xxx

Pathetic, I was unbelievably pathetic halting every 10 or 15 minutes to rest, cursing low on every step, faint and unsteady. My hands were weakening, I was constantly afraid of dropping her on the stones. I had to go quicker but simply couldn't. By the time we reached the stables I was shaking uncontrollably, irritated and exhausted, sweat pouring like water from my body. I wrapped my Christine in the cloak and went for the stallion.

Unfortunately, the night was bright, full moon only two days ahead. The freezing cold, not typical for an early March, turned my sweat to ice in no time, adding twists to my constant shaking. I was getting limp with every mile on the back of that horse, pressing the girl to my body as tightly as possible. We were almost done I couldn't stop now. I changed my hands and once again thanked God that Cesar had such an even pace. The horse was moving like a black storm beneath me filling me with confidence for our success.

We reached de Chagny estate. I've been here two or three times in the past month, and never until now could I answer why. I knew where Raoul slept, and I would only hope he was home tonight. I had heard his name so often during those nights that I became used to it. What a thing, to have a name. A name means someone wants to call you, to imprint some memory from their past on you. With a name they, acknowledge your existence.

Cesar was lying on the ground and I put Christine close to his body, resting her head on his front legs. I commanded the stallion to be still and moved away. Even in that night, they were practically invisible to anybody but me.

My power was melting in my veins when finally I reached Raoul's window. Of course he slept on the third floor; I would do the same. It was locked and I moved to the next in hopes of finding it open. With those shaking hands, I dismissed all thoughts of a challenge concerning the keyhole. The fourth one proved open, and I made it into the house. His bedroom wasn't locked, allowing me to slip soundlessly inside and to open his window. I watched him sleep for a while, fighting the urge to slit his throat. How did he make her love him? Was she going to sleep here with him after tonight? My body was hurting like Hell, and I wanted nothing more than to give him pain as well.

I bent over the boy, slowly pulling my knife free. It would be that easy. Instead I brought both of my hands to his face, simultaneously planting a knee in his chest. He woke with a start and a wave of satisfying pleasure washed over me that he could experience this for once in his life. He was a boy, his eyes widen with terror when he recognized me. I hoped he would piss his pants in his fright. The knife was pressing on his neck, making a dark bloody mark there. My hand on his mouth prevented him from screaming or even breathing for I noticed his nose was full.

"Not a sound, viscount. I will speak – you will listen. Understand?"

Raoul nodded slowly, eyes burning with so much hatered, I could easily mistake them for mine. I parted my fingers on his mouth and felt the breath being sucked in through the gap.

"You want Christine back, yes?"

His eyes told me the answer before he managed to nod again and I continued.

"Meet me at the servant's entrance in five minutes. Alone."

I left him, and got out of the window, heading for the back door. Anger and humiliation commanded my body to concentrate on the task. Once there, I leaned on a tree and closed my eyes. Nothing. The house was quiet and I suspected Raoul was still too busy deciding which pair of socks to wear for the occasion.

The moment he stepped out, I was behind him, the blade resting lightly on his neck.

"Where is Christine you ..."

I pressed the knife firmer and he went silent.

"Your word, that you will follow me peacefully, no tricks."

The noble boy hesitated only for a moment, then he spoke in a low voice, imitating his father perhaps.

"You have my word."

I let him go and immediately headed towards Christine. Raoul was a step behind me breathing heavily. I made sure he would not see me shaking. I quickened my pace unwilling to give him time to change his mind.

Reaching them, Raoul knelt beside her, after I steadied the horse.

"You left her here? Alone?"

His hate had returned, but I had no power or desire to explain myself.

"Christine? Christine! What have you done? What is wrong..."

"Stop shouting, boy. She is drugged. She will wake tomorrow, around noon with a headache, nothing more."

He stood from her side and faced me.

"You bastard, you broke her, didn't you." - He pointed back to Christine - " Look at her! She is not herself. She looks dead. Dead!"

Raoul threw my cloak away and took Christine in his arms. He turned for the house when I heard him sob. My heart and soul abandoned me when I made Cesar rise and climbed on his back like a very old man.

"Viscount!"

He stopped but didn't turn back.

"Don't deny music to her."

Raoul stepped forward and I turned towards Paris, urging Cesar to go faster and faster.

I reached the opera in no time, my consciousness floating in and out of focus. There was an early stableman whom I knock down before attempting to unsaddle the horse. Reaching up, I froze, gazing at the bag which had no business there. I have completely forgotten about Christine's stuff. So she would have nothing to remind her of our hellish time together, maybe for the best. It was I who needed to keep all memories alive. To remember why, I would never deserve her.

My empty home and haunted bedroom were where I left them. I took a blanket and a pillow and slowly went behind the organ, curled in my hiding place holding her bag to my chest. I'd fallen asleep before I could say "Christine" once more.